To My Dad, I'm Only Worth One Dollar

"Everyone, check it out! Look at that custom Pagani Huayra. It's the only one in the world!"

"Look at those curves. Listen to the engine roar. How much do you think this thing costs?"

"Zayn's got some serious clout. I can't believe he actually got his hands on this supercar just to flex on us!"

I sat in the backseat of the cab with my eyes glued to the livestream on my phone as my body shook with rage.

The car was a third-anniversary gift Quinn Fuller had given me a week ago. She spent a fortune hiring a top expert in automotive customization from Irion, who took a full year to finish detailing the car's body. Every part of it, even down to the seat stitching, was done according to my liking.

I loved it too much to drive it, so I just kept it parked in the villa's climate-controlled garage.

But now, on the livestream, the car body was covered in tacky graffiti spray-painted in neon pink and bright green. There was also cigarette ash scattered across the leather seats, a half-empty bottle of champagne, and even a few pairs of mud-splattered sneakers planted directly on the console.

The male streamer who was currently shouting the loudest into the camera was Zayn Meyer. He was the child my dad, Jake Litt, had with his current wife after he remarried. I had never met him before this, and only knew what he looked like from my dad's Instagram posts.

Half an hour later, the cab came to a halt at the starting point of the abandoned Ridge Road located in Westos.

I pulled open the door and charged straight into the partying crowd of young scions and influencers. "Stop! Who gave you the permission to spray graffiti all over the car?"

The deafening music stopped as everyone stared at me, bewildered.

Only Zayn reacted, jumping down from the car hood while giving me a disdainful once-over. "Who are you? Are you out of your mind? Do you know who's the boss here? It's my dad's surprise birthday gift for me, and I'm in the middle of streaming. Why are you causing such a scene?"

"Your dad gave it to you? Are you blind? Can't you see the license plate is a custom-made abbreviation?" I angrily pointed at the plate embossed with "WGQF".

A blonde-haired guy leaned over with a smirk. "What the hell are those letters? I'm guessing it's some sort of code for a rental car company."

"I own this car! You vandalized it and even raced it under the influence. That is illegal!" I gazed at the deep scratch mark on the car door, an ache filling my heart.

But Zayn just let out a cold snort. He pointed right at my nose with a sneer. "Yours? Who are you kidding? You could never afford a top-tier supercar. Take a good look. My dad got this specifically for me."

"Also, what do you mean by 'vandalizing'?" Zayn kicked the expensive carbon fiber front lip with contempt. "This is graffiti art! My dad doesn't even care that I destroyed it, so why are you all up in my business?"

After all these years, Jake was still just as vain.

Back then, he abandoned us just to marry into the family of a nouveau-riche woman named Jill Meyer, all because he looked down on my mom for being poor.

He had completely ignored me my whole life. Yet this morning, he reached out to me on WhatsApp and sent me one dollar via Venmo, saying that he wanted to borrow my car to impress an important client.

After all, he was still my dad. In a moment of weakness, I agreed.

Who knew that in his attempt to play the "good father" to Zayn, he would allow these punks to trash a gift I so cherished?

I decided not to waste another breath on Zayn. I retrieved my phone, wanting to call the cops.

Suddenly, a half-finished bottle of champagne was smashed into my head. The pain was so excruciating that my eyes immediately blurred as a large bump formed on my forehead.